Nonsense
by mistymidnight
Summary: Tara MaClay never wanted to be different, but there are some things you just can’t control... ((Tara’s childhood))
1. Chapter One

**Title: **Nonsense

**Author: **mistymidnight

**Rating: **PG

**Disclaimer: **Some people say Joss means 'luck' in Chinese, but I say it means 'he who lets me use his characters and does not sue me.'

**Spoilers/Timeline: **None and none, as of yet. I have plans to jump to season six at the end, though.

**Summary: **Tara MaClay never wanted to be different, but there are some things you just can't control… ((Tara's childhood))

**Author's Notes: **A while back, someone, I think gidgetgirl, said I should write kidfic about the other Scoobies. Well, I am here to please! Introducing…Tara's life story! Also, seeing the season five episode "Family" will probably help with the understanding of this story. This is not a stand-alone.

            Another crash sounded. Tara MaClay slid further under the bed. Bethie said that thunder was the angels in heaven bowling, and the lightning was God taking pictures. Tara's mommy said that the thunder was the work of the Goddess, and that it was part of nature, just like grass and puppies and chipmunks.

            Daddy told Mommy to stop filling Tara's head with "that 'magic' nonsense".

            Tara clutched her stuffed cat tighter to her chest. "Miss Kitty," she whispered to the toy, "I don't know why Mommy and Daddy fight so much." Miss Kitty said nothing, but Tara knew she understood. "Maybe they can get a divorce like the people on TV always do. Then Mommy can get married and I can have a bunch of brothers and sisters like on _The Brady Bunch_. And we can sing. And start our own band."

            Miss Kitty gave her the most comforting look a stuffed cat could possibly muster and Tara felt a little better. Then her heart sank as she heard Donny yell, "Tara! Get out from under the stupid bed!" This was punctuated by the box springs creaking as he bounced on it.

            "Stop it!" Tara cried. "I'm coming!" She slid on her stomach until her head poked out from underneath the bed. She could instantly feel the humidity subside and the air felt cleaner and crisper. She pushed herself out the rest of the way and demanded, "What?"

            Donny grinned. "Guess what?"

            Tara wasn't one to retort with something like "I just _asked_ 'what' stupid," and therefore just stared at him, waiting.

            "Dad's taking me to Washington!"

            Tara furrowed her brow. "State or D.C.?"

            "D.C. What's in Washington state? Lots of rain and junk."

            "J-just you and Dad?" she asked, not meeting his eyes.

            "Yeah, it'll be like a male bonding thing," Donny said excitedly. "No girls allowed. That means you, Mom, _and_ Bethie."

            Tara had by no means forgotten that she, Mommy, and Bethie were all girls, but she didn't say that to Donny. Instead, she said, "When?"

            "Heck if I know," Donny said, bouncing on the bed one more time before leaving the room. Tara was glad she had her own room. It was good for hiding things.

            She climbed up on the bed and clutched a pillow, as well as Miss Kitty, to her chest. Thunder boomed again, and Tara jumped.

            She sat on the bed, comforting Miss Kitty, who was terrified of thunder. Suddenly a great _crack_ shook the house and Tara screamed. Miss Kitty was more afraid than Tara, though. Miss Kitty was a scaredy cat.

            Tara heard footsteps thumping down the hallway, and then Mommy was there. "Tara, sweets, what's the matter?"

            "The thunder scared Miss Kitty," Tara explained, knowing her mother would understand what she really meant.

            "Oh," said Mommy, smiling knowingly. "Well, why don't you tell Miss Kitty that the Goddess won't let anything bad happen to her?"

            "She knows, Mommy," Tara said, "but sometimes she gets scared."

            "I know, Tara, I know," Mommy said soothingly, smoothing Tara's hair.  When she got her hand caught in some tangles, she asked, "Did you hide under the bed again?"

            Tara nodded. "Miss Kitty told me to. She was scared."

            Mommy nodded as well. There was silence, except for the _tip-tapping_ of rain on the windows.

            "Mumma," Tara said suddenly, "how come Daddy always takes Donny places?"

            "Because that's what Daddies do, sweetie. They spend time with their sons just like I spend time with my favorite little girl."

            Tara giggled. "I'm your only little girl."

            "Right," Mommy said. "You are my Tara-pooh-honey-bear."

            Tara laughed at the nickname. Mommy had called her Tara-pooh-honey-bear ever since was real little, a newborn.

            "How come we don't do special stuff, Mommy?" Tara asked.

            Mommy stroked Tara's cheek. "We do, sweetie. Remember when I showed you the Tinkerbell light?"

            Tara nodded. "I know," she said, "I think magic is special. But why don't we do things like Daddy and Donny do? Normal things?"

            Mommy looked slightly pained when Tara said _normal_, but she answered nonetheless. "What normal things do you want to do, sweetheart?"

            Tara considered. "I want to go to Disneyland and swim in a lake in the mountains and laugh 'til my tummy hurts and drink Jell-O before it gets jiggly."

            Mommy smiled. "I'll see what I can do."

Okay, it was short, but I'm hot and tired and sticky and sweaty and just plain uninspired. But reviews help. Please, no flames! I'm trying to get Tara's character right, but it's hard! Tara was a pretty complex character.

Oh well. Review! (I've had no reviews all day, even though I updated "Becoming What?" Please, oh please, oh please!)

mistymidnight


	2. Chapter Two

Nonsense 

**mistymidnight**

**Author's Notes: **Thanks for the feedback, guys. I'm basking in the feedback-y goodness!

            About Tara's lack of timid-ness: I always saw Tara as the kind of person who really opens up to those she knows well, which is why she was somewhat confident. By Tara-standards, anyway. And I see Tara's mother as being the same way. This will be more evident in coming chapters, when Tara interacts with her parents and they interact with each other.

            As for Beth's bossiness, just wait. It's coming. I swear to God.

**Chapter Two**

            "And here," Bethie said, pointing under the coffee table, "is the ballroom."

            Tara glanced at her cousin and then at her cousin's Barbies. "I—I think the B-Barbies are t-too t-tall to f-fit," she stuttered, backing off under her cousin's glare.

            "They are not too tall to fit," Bethie said superiorly, "if you go like _this_." She bent her Barbie's legs all the way back so it looked as if she was doing some kind of strange stretch. She hovered the Barbie over the carpet for a minute, before making it hop around under the table.

            Tara frowned. _How can they dance, then? _She thought to herself. She didn't say this to Bethie, though. Bethie was a no-nonsense kind of girl.

            "W-Where's my B-Barbie?" Tara asked, searching the pile with her eyes.

            "Oh. Here you go," Bethie said carelessly, reaching into the pile and handing Tara a chewed-up Barbie doll.

            Tara felt tears spring to her eyes. _This is what happens when you let Bethie borrow your toys,_ a little voice in her head said. She called it the Miss Kitty voice, because it was the voice that always made comments to her. The Bethie voice was the voice that always told her what to do. And the Daddy voice was the one that told her she was stupid, a little worthless girl.

            "Scout got her," Bethie explained, gently brushing the hair of a much nicer Barbie. "But now you match."

            "Match?"

            "Mm-hm," Bethie nodded. "Two freaks."

            _I am not a freak._

            "Oh," Tara mumbled.

            _'Scout got her'? She probably _fed _it to Scout._

            "Now," Bethie said, beginning to lay out the framework of a perfect day in the perfect life of a perfect Barbie, "Barbie is gonna wake up and Miz Bizarro—that's your doll—is gonna make her breakfast for her. And then my Barbie will say, 'Miz Bizarro, I'm going to a pah-tay tonight. Be a dear and make me a beee-utiful dress with sparkles. And Miz Bizarro will say—"

            "'Yes, Bethie'," Tara said, using the only words her doll was allowed to say during the games of Barbies. The scenarios were sometimes different, and sometimes Tara's doll was The Amazing Mrs. Weird instead of Miz Bizarro, but there was always that one constant.

            Bethie began to move her Barbie about and hum. She changed her Barbie's clothes four times throughout the game: pajamas to casualwear to her work clothes to eveningwear. Tara's Barbie remained clothed in the same yellow sock she'd always worn.

            When the torturous game of Barbies was over, Bethie sent Tara home for lunch. Bethie never liked Tara to stay for lunch. After lunch Bethie's friends would come over, and they'd all have tea parties. Tara spent the afternoons reading. She was very bright, Mommy always said, her shining star. Daddy said that Tara should be spending more time learning useful things, like how to cook and sew and raise a family. But Tara still read. It was the only thing that kept her from going crazy.

            "Mommy," she said as she ate the grilled cheese her mother had made her, "you said we'd do something normal today."

            "I did?" her mother asked teasingly, smiling. "Are you sure I said today?"

            Tara nodded, then paused. "No," she finally answered, sounding disappointed.

            "Cheer up, sweetie!" Mommy said. "We have a whole week and a half to ourselves coming up! Daddy and Donny are going to Washington, remember? And Bethie is going to camp. We'll do something normal, I promise. I'm just planning an extra-special treat for my Tara-pooh-honey-bear."

            Tara smiled. No matter how bad her day had been, and no matter how long Bethie made her play Barbies with her, Mommy could always cheer her up.

            Besides Miss Kitty, Tara didn't love anyone but Mommy.

Okay, done. Hope the A/N at the beginning explained the personalities a little better. More shall be revealed (oooh! Mysterious!) in later chapters.

mistymidnight


	3. Chapter Three

**Nonsense **

**mistymidnight**

**Author's notes: **Thanks for the feedback, everyone!

To Solar Princess/Jebus: About whether or not Tara, Mommy, and Bethie all live together: they don't live in the same house, but they do live in the same neighborhood. Like, maybe next door or something. I guess Tara's aunt (Bethie's mom) isn't around too much, seeing as she's constantly cooking for the family and cleaning up after Bethie…in other words, the kind of woman the family wants.

Also, I looked and looked and I couldn't find out Tara's mother's first name, therefore I made one up. If she does have a first name mentioned on the show, I'd love to know. If you know her first name, pass it along and you'll be the subject of my undying gratitude! Until then, though, Tara's mother's name is Brooke.

**Chapter Three**

"Asparagus, steak, baked potatoes, and watermelon," Tara's mother said, setting each dish down at the table in front of the group: Tara, Donny, Daddy, Bethie, and Mommy herself.

Bethie gave Mrs. MaClay an angelic grin and said, "Everything sounds delicious, Aunt Brooke," she said primly, shooting Tara a superior glance."

"Thank you, Beth," smiled Mrs. MaClay, placing a baked potato on Beth's plate. "I'm glad you think so."

"Potatoes again?" muttered Mr. MaClay darkly, poking his with a fork.

Tara's mother said nothing, but looked a little worried.

Mr. MaClay gave a sigh and cut open his baked potato.

"Mommy, I don't want asparagus," Tara complained.

"Tara, you will eat what's put in front of you," Mr. MaClay commanded. "Look at Beth. She does what she's told."

Bethie beamed and nibbled another bit of asparagus, mostly for show, since she slipped in into her napkin as soon as no one was looking.

"B-b-but I h-hate a-a-aspar-a-agus," Tara stammered, shrinking under her father's glare. "M-m-maybe I could have c-c-corn o-or s-s-something."

"You will eat what is put in front of you!" Mr. MaClay roared, standing up and pounding the palms of his hands onto the tabletop. "Is that clear?"

Tara nodded meekly, biting her lip to keep the tears from spilling over.

"Aww, Tara, don't be a crybaby," Donny said, sawing his steak with a tremendous amount of effort.

"In my class at school," Bethie began, seizing the moment, "I'm the best speller. I can spell 'crybaby'. C-R-Y-B-A-B-Y—"

"Aw, Beth, put a sock in it," Donny grumbled.

"Donny," his mother began, "please don't be fresh with your cous—"

"Are you the one providing the discipline around here?" demanded Mr. MaClay. Mrs. MaClay stayed silent, not meeting his glare. "Look at me when I'm talking to you!" thundered Mr. MaClay, grabbing her shoulder and shaking her. She looked up at him and he let go of her shoulder with a final push. "_I_ make the rules around here. Remember that." He turned back to his baked potato and said, "So, Beth, what else can you spell?"

"I can spell 'Marlboro cigarettes'," Bethie pronounced proudly. "M-A-R-L-B-O-R-O—leave a space—C-I-G-A-R-E-T-T-E-S …"

.

.

"'I can spell 'Marlboro cigarettes''," Tara mimicked, pulling a nightgown out of her drawer. "_I_ can spell 'Marlboro cigarettes'. Anyone can."

The truth was, Tara and Bethie were the only ones in their respective pre-kindergarten classes that _could_ spell 'Marlboro cigarettes'. Bethie could spell it because she saw her father's pack of them every waking moment; Tara could because she learned it from Bethie. Both of them had been placed in first grade reading classes for their coming kindergarten year. Tara had the natural skills for it, and Bethie's parents had used the American capitalistic system to get Bethie in. Bethie loved to tell people this. Tara would love to tell these people that "using the American capitalistic system" simply meant that Bethie's parents had paid for her to get in. Bethie certainly wasn't stupid, she was a bright girl, but she was nowhere near as intelligent as Tara.

Tara picked out some play clothes for tomorrow and laid them on the rocking chair next to her bed. Tara was meticulous about her room and clothes. She liked to have everything nice and neat, even under her bed. Although she'd never admit it, part of the reason she kept it so clean under there was so that she—and Miss Kitty, of course—could crawl under at a moment's notice.

"For goodness sakes," Tara said, adopting a favorite expression of her mother's, "even _you_ could spell that, Miss Kitty."

Miss Kitty agreed and proved that she could by spelling it, with only a little help from Tara.

Tara pulled up the covers and turned off the light, pulling Miss Kitty closer to shield herself from the ominous darkness. But nothing could shield her from the shouts of her father.

"—acting as if you always know best!" she heard him yell downstairs. "No wonder Tara was so disagreeable about her meal. Do you see the way John and Caroline raise Beth? They raised her right. They don't teach her that pagan witch crap. They don't coddle her. They teach her values, they teach her her rightful place in life! What she's good for! If you raised Tara the way Caroline raises Beth, then things wouldn't be like this!"

Tara listened to the silence. She didn't cry much when her father yelled at her mother, not anymore, it was a commonplace experience. But Tara couldn't help it—whenever her father yelled at her, it was all she could do not to cry. Tara snapped back to attention when she heard a _smack!_ and a cry from downstairs.

"You'll do well to listen to me next time, woman!" she heard her father yell. "And you tell Tara to behave herself next time, especially when we have guests!"

"Bethie's not a guest," Tara mumbled to herself and Miss Kitty. "She's just Bethie."

Tara quickly closed her eyes and steadied her breathing, though, hearing her father come quickly up the stairs. She heard him pause outside her door, then heard him come in and felt him sit on the bed. "Tara?" he said quietly.

"Yes, Daddy?"

"Did you hear your mother and me arguing?"

Tara nodded. She couldn't lie to Daddy. It was hard for her to lie and Daddy always saw right through it.

"Do you know why we argue?"

Tara shook her head.

"Because sometimes Mommy is bad, just like you are sometimes. But Mommy is going to try to be better, and I want you to try, too, Tara. Do what Mommy and Daddy tell you, and you'll do okay in life."

"Okay, Daddy," Tara said. Daddy scared her.

"Okay, Tare. Go back to sleep."

Tara waited until she heard his footsteps fade and then breathed a sigh of relief, holding Miss Kitty even closer.

"I don't like Daddy," she whispered to Miss Kitty, so quiet Tara herself could barely her it. "I don't like him one bit."

.

.

Okey-dokey, done with that. Remember, reviews are like the gasoline for my writing machine. See ya!

mistymidnight


	4. Chapter Four

Nonsense 

**mistymidnight**

**Author's Notes: **There's actually not much to say. I felt like updating. That's about it.

Chapter Four 

            "Mommy," Tara whispered, crawling onto her parents' bed. Daddy was already gone for work, and Donny was at one of his friends' houses, having left right after dinner and then called later to say he was sleeping over. Tara and Mommy had the house to themselves. The bedsprings creaked and  Tara whispered again, "Mommy?"

            She heard a slight groan and Mommy said sleepily, "Tara, Mommy's still sleeping."

            "How can you be asleep if you're talking to me?" Tara asked.

            Mommy smiled sleepily, squinting at the sun coming in through the curtains. "I'm talking in my sleep."

            "You are not, Mumma," Tara giggled, snuggling down next to her mother. "You're silly."

            "_You_ are sillier, Tara-pooh-honey-bear," Mommy laughed, ruffling Tara's hair.

            "I am—" Tara was cut off by the telephone ringing. Mommy sighed and leaned across Tara to pick it up from the nightstand.

            "Hello?" she said into the phone. There was a pause, then: "You did? Oh no." Pause. "Well, I left it in the front of the fridge last night…I _did_ tell you." Pause. "Are y-you sure?" Pause. "Well, I suppose…I can't bring it to you, you have the truck…I'm sorry, sweetheart. I-it won't h-happen again. I p-promise." She glanced upward, as if asking some divine power for strength. "All right. I love you. Bye."

            She looked at Tara, who was watching her with curiosity. "Daddy forgot his lunch," she explained wearily.

            Tara took the opportunity and asked, "Mumma, how come you and Daddy fight?"

            Mommy gave an almost-snort of bitter laughter and said, "Mommies and Daddies fight sometimes, honey-bear. It's normal."

            "Normal…" Tara repeated. "When are we going to do the 'normal' special treat?"

            Mommy's face brightened again. "Soon, Tara. Mommy just has to work a few things out."

            Tara wiggled with anticipation. "Oh, I can't wait! When will you work things out, Mommy?"

            Mommy smiled. "As soon as possible," she said. "I'm going to talk to a friend of mine from a long time ago."

            "Do you have friends, Mommy?"

            "Tara! What a question! Of course I do!"

            "Then how come you don't talk to them?"

            Mommy sighed. "When Daddy and I got married, we put our relationship above all else. Daddy needs a lot of attention, so I don't get to see my friends as much as I'd like."

            "I think that's mean of Daddy," Tara said bluntly. "I think he should give you time to yourself. He's selfish and mean and I hate him!"

            "Tara! Watch that mouth of yours! Daddy puts clothes on your back and food on the table, so don't go saying that you hate him!"

            "Well, I do," Tara mumbled. "He scares me."

            "Here, sweetheart," Mommy murmured, pulling Tara into a hug. "Everything will be better soon. Daddy's just been very tired lately. Things will get better. Promise."

            "Scout's honor?" Tara asked, even though she was not a Scout. In fact, the only scout around these parts was Scout the dog, who apparently derived pleasure from mutilating Barbies.

            "Scout's honor," Mommy said solemnly, saluting. 

            "Good," said Tara.

            "Now, you'd better get up," Mommy said, gently pushing Tara toward the edge of the bed. "You don't want to keep Bethie waiting."

.

            Bethie stood on the back porch, tapping her foot impatiently and making faces at Tara. "You're late," she informed her, shoving a wicker suitcase full of Barbie things at Tara. "Here. Carry these," she commanded. "Today the Barbies are camping in the woods. Your Barbie is Bigfoot."

            Tara followed obediently to the woods behind the house. Bethie stopped at a small clearing and pulled a towel out of the backpack she was wearing.

            "Now we're gonna set up the tent," she instructed. "Find three sticks, two with fork-y things on the end. We're pitching out tent."

            Tara complied and began the search while Bethie sat on the soon-to-be-pitched tent and fanned mosquitoes away from her face.

            When Tara returned with the sticks, she and Bethie pitched the tent. A two-hour game of Barbies ensued, and Bethie even let Bigfoot be a good guy (girl) in the end and join the Barbies in their Barbie-Q.

            As Tara walked back to the house, she felt very confused. Bethie was so nice sometimes, and some mean the rest of the time. Tara never knew what she was getting.

            Life was too confusing.

.

mistymidnight


	5. Chapter Five

**Nonsense**

**mistymidnight**

**Author's Notes: **Sorry about the lack of updating, but my Microsoft Word up and died on me a couple days ago. It's still dead, in fact. I'm using AbiWord. I'm not quite sure how to work it, seeing as it's just my backup program, so bear with me if the formatting stinks.

            The weird thing is, though, that I have Windows XP (no, that's not the weird part) and Word works on all the other user names except mine. Huh.

            Remember, Tara's family lives in the South somewhere, not in California.

            Hi, it's me again. Just copied the whole AbiWord file onto Microsoft Word on a different user name. Ah, the agony of updating!

**Chapter Five**

            "Today?" Tara asked her mother the next morning as she watched her fry sausage and eggs for breakfast.

            "Today," her mother confirmed, smiling, as she flipped over a sausage link.

            "Hi!" Donny  said, practically flying into the kitchen. "Me and Dad are going tomorrow!"

            He was talking about, of course, Washington DC.

            "H-hi, Donny," Tara said. "Do you want some eggs?" She held a plate out to him.

            "Nah," Donny said, "Me and Tim are goin' down to the brook today. We're gonna catch some frogs and stuff."

            "Oh," Tara said. "But don't you want breakfast anyway?"

            "Nah," Donny said again, grabbing a piece of toast nonetheless and stuffing it into his mouth. "Tim's mom is giving us sandwiches and junk to bring."

            "Oh," Tara repeated.

            "Eeya," Donny called over his shoulder, his mouth full of toast. The screen door slammed shut after him just as Tara's father came downstairs, saying, "How are my girls?"

            Tara's mother smiled and kissed him on the cheek and Tara waved. "Hi, Daddy."

            "Hey, T-girl. Are you helping Mommy with breakfast?"

            Tara nodded. "Eggs and sausage."

            "Good," said Daddy. He gave Mommy an appraising look. Tara had a feeling it had to do with the "raising Tara right" conversation.

            "Will you and Mommy take care of the house while me and Donny are gone?"

            Tara nodded again. "Sure, Daddy. I prom--"

            "Well, aren't you going to have some breakfast?" Mommy asked them. "Or are you just going to sit and talk all day?"

            "Wish I could, but I've gotta run," Tara father said. "See you both tonight." He gave Tara a kiss on the top of her head and dashed out. "I'll pick up some coffee and a bagel on the way."

            Tara's mother looked sadly at all the uneaten food, then sighed. "Tara, call Bethie. We're gonna need some help."

            Tara watched her mother as she helped wash the breakfast dishes. Something was going on, that was for sure.

            "What is it, Mommy? What's the matter?"

            Mommy smiled. "Nothing's the matter. I'm just deciding when to tell you about the extra-normal special treat I have planned.

            "Oh, now, Mommy! Please tell me now!"

            Mommy chuckled and said, "What were the normal things you wanted to do, Tara?"

            Tara didn't hesitate. She thought about them every day. "Go to Disneyland, swim in a lake in the mountains, laugh til my tummy hurts and eat Jell-O before it gets jiggly."

            "Okay, so guess what we're doing."

            "Going to Disneyland?!" Tara asked excitedly.

            "No," her mother said. "Too expensive. Guess again."

            "Drinking un-jiggly Jell-O?" Tara asked.

            "Nope," said her mother. "Although I suppose we could make that part of the extra-special treat, if we wanted to."

            "Swimming in a lake?" Tara guessed.

            "Give Tara MaClay the prize!" Mommy said.

            "We're going to a lake?" Tara exclaimed. "Yay!"

            "Don't forget the other part," Mommy said.

            "In the mountains?" Tara asked. "Oh, boy, oh, boy! I've gotta tell Bethie! This--"

            "No, Tara," Mommy said. "This is going to be out Mommy-Tara Secret, okay? Just like the magic."

            Tara considered, but only for a second. "Okay," she agreed. "Deal."

Yes, it was short, I know, but I have ideas for coming chapters. In fact, I have one that I was gonna use in this chapter, but I didn't want to rush the story. Okay, until the next update.... sayonara!


	6. Chapter Six

**Nonsense **

**mistymidnight**

**Author's Notes: **Thanks to gidgetgirl for the great ideas regarding the lake. I didn't really quite have a plot yet, and the suggestions helped immensely! For anyone who doesn't want to be spoiled, don't read gidgetgirl's review of 6/20/04 until later on. Maybe not even for a few more chapters, I dunno.

**Belated Dedication: **To Taylor and family—whose summerhouse was the model for Tara and Mommy's summer lodging.

Chapter Six 

"Tara, wake up," Mommy whispered, gently shaking Tara. "We're dropping Daddy and Donny off at the airport."

Tara opened her eyes and blearily looked around. Daddy and Donny were nowhere to be seen. "Are we going to the lake after?" she whispered.

"Yes," Mommy said. "Remember, it's our secret."

"Of course, Mommy," Tara whispered back.

"Good," Mommy said, kissing Tara's forehead and standing up straight. "Now, get dressed. We have to leave in an hour."

.

.

"What are we gonna do first, Dad?" Donny asked excitedly, wiggling with anticipation in the backseat of the car. "Can we go to the White House? Can we see the president?"

"Doubt it, son," Daddy replied from the drivers' seat.

"How about that big tall white thing?"

"The Washington Monument?" Mommy supplied.

Tara let the conversation fade away as she watched the highway whiz by. Tree, tree, tree, tree, grass, sign, tree, tree…

"Hey look!" Donny exclaimed, jerking Tara out of her rhythm of highway-watching. He pointed at the odometer. "Two-three-four-five-six! It's in order!" The six changed to a seven and Donny frowned at it. "Well, it was."

Tara sighed and turned to the window again. She stared outside until they finally reached the airport, where she and Mommy bid Donny and Daddy farewell before setting off on their own adventure.

.

.

Tara sat next to Mommy in the front seat of the car. She felt very important. She never got to sit in front.

"So are we camping, Mommy?" she asked, observing the steep rock "cliffs" on the sides of the highway. The "cliffs" had been getting steeper and rockier the further away from home they got.

"Better than that, honey-bear," Mommy said amiably, tapping the steering wheel of the pick-up truck. "We're staying in a nice house. That's what I had to talk to my friend about. It's her family's summerhouse. But they're in New England at the beach this week, so she's letting us use it."

"Neat!" Tara exclaimed, and began to fiddle with the radio dial. She could just _barely_ reach it from where she sat.

"Remember, Tara, that this is not our house," Mommy said seriously. "We have to keep it clean and be careful not to break anything."

"Okay," Tara agreed, flipping the station from country music to a talk show and them back. Static flooded the radio.

"We're out of range," Mommy said. "You'll have to find a new station, Tara."

Tara nodded and began flipping stations again.

.

.

"Wake up, sweetheart," Mommy said. "We're almost there."

Tara opened her eyes. They were passing through a small town. A general store, a post office, a car/bicycle/boat repair shop, an old-fashioned gas station, and a diner lined the road. "It's even smaller than our town," she commented.

"Shh," Mommy said. "I have to read the directions."

Tara sat quietly as Mommy skimmed over the paper she held in her hand, keeping on eye on the road. Then she straightened up and looked intently at the road ahead. Tara noticed for the first time that it was late afternoon. They had been driving almost all day.

"What time is it, Mommy?" she asked.

"Half-past three," her mother replied.

"Half past?" Tara asked.

"Three-thirty," her mother clarified. "Now shush. I have to find the road."

She studied the street signs and then smiled and turned down the street. "Okay," she said to Tara, "now you get to be my helper. Look for a street on your side that has a cemetery at the beginning."

"A cemetery?" Tara asked nervously.

"Just a little one," Mommy said soothingly. "The house we're staying at wasn't built until just a few years ago. Before that, all the land along that road belonged to one family, and that was the family graveyard. Now the family has sold the land, but they still live on the road, at the house closest to the little cemetery."

"Oh. Okay," Tara said, and stared through the windshield at the long road before her. It was paved, but it looked like it hadn't seen a repair crew for awhile. It was lined by rugged trees--evergreens that seemed more black than green and regular trees with trunks turned gray by age. Ferns and wild plants covered what little areas of ground that weren't already occupied by the trees.

And there, on the right, was a little dirt road with a cemetery next to it.

"Right there, Mumma!" Tara said, pointing at the road.

"Good eyes, Tara," Mommy said, and turned on to the dirt road. "Now," she mumbled to herself, reading the directions, "the left fork in the road is our driveway."

The two of them rode in silence, and Tara wiggled with anticipation.

She could hardly wait.

.

.

Ah, cliffhanger! Mwa ha ha! (Evil laughter). Well, lucky for all of you, I'm on summer holiday, so you can expect more updates! You know what really gets the creative juices flowing, though? Reviews! Thanks—

mistymidnight


	7. Chapter Seven

**Nonsense **

**mistymidnight**

**Author's Notes: **Two updates in one day! Woot for me!

Sigh I thought you people loved me more than this. I added a new chapter this afternoon, and now it's a quarter to ten and I've only gotten TWO REVIEWS! You're all lucky my creative juices can flow all on their own! (A lack of reviews causes clots, though. =) )

**Chapter Seven**

Tara stared eagerly ahead at the dirt road. To her left, dirt or gravel driveways snaked off through the trees, and Tara thought she could catch the glitter of a lake every once in awhile. Then the road forked. Mommy took the left side, and the next thing Tara knew, the pickup truck was grinding over the gravel that the driveway was composed of. Tara looked excitedly to her left…and there it was.

The house was huge, at least to Tara. From the driveway, stairs led onto the porch, which wrapped around two of the house's four sides. A small garage separate from the house was straight ahead, and Mommy parked in front of it. Tara jumped out of the car to stretch her legs, then ran up onto the porch and looked around.

Straight ahead was the lake. It glittered through the trees, a deep blackish-blue with silver sprinkles. On the other side of the bank Tara could see mountains, lazily making half-hearted attempts to touch the clouds.

"Oh, neato," she breathed, then took as deep a breath of the fresh mountain air that she could muster. It smelled crisp and clean and warm like a sheet that had been washed and dried on the clothesline in the sun. Except better. Because in this air there was pine and compost and cold water and the calming woody smell of the porch.

"You like it?" Mommy asked, smiling, as she unloaded their bags from the back of the truck.

"Oh, yes, Mommy, it's awesome," Tara said. "It's like…like…the Goddess herself."

Mommy smiled. "I know how you feel." She turned to the bags. "Now come help me get this inside."

"Okay," Tara said agreeably, skipping over to help. Mommy carried her bags to the porch stairs, then knelt down and felt around underneath one of them. Her face lit up and she pulled out the house key that had been taped under the step. "Just where she said it would be," she mumbled to herself, then straightened up again. "Tara," she said, holding out the key, "would you like to do the honors?"

Tara grinned and ran up the steps to the clear glass door. She slid the key into the lock, turned and pushed…

…and the door creaked open.

The inside of the house was just a lovely as the view outside. The house was sunny and bright, courtesy of the huge sliding doors out onto the other part of the porch, and the huge windows above the sliders. Everything was the colors of the woods: birch tree gray, the dark brown of soil, the deep greens of plants, the rich clay reds, and just a hint of white winter frost. The walls were just barely off-white, and the stairs heading up to the loft were hardwood, a light, shiny brown the color of the crusts of fresh baked bread. The rafters were the same color.

A gray-white wall-to-wall carpet covered the floor to Tara's left. As far as she could tell, this was the living and dining area. There was a big oak table the same color as the rafters and the stairs, and in the living area there was a couch set directly in front of a huge fireplace. A chair sat just off to the side of the couch, and a small circular end table sat between them. The coffee table between the couch and the fireplace was the color of rich dark chocolate.

The blanket the was draped over the back of the couch incorporated all the colors of the room, adding to them the reds and blues and blacks of the forest.

Tara turned her gaze over to the right, the kitchen area. Right next to her elbow was a counter with two chairs next to it, for a quick meal. The kitchen was surrounded on three sides by counters. On the far wall, Tara could see a door, probably to the bathroom, and on the wall next to that, she could see another door. It was open a bit and Tara could see that it was a girl's bedroom.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Mommy asked, coming up behind her. "It was so nice of Tammy to let us stay here."

"Yeah," Tara agreed. "Is—Can that be my room?" She pointed at the door to the bedroom.

"Of course," Mommy said. "I'm staying upstairs, in the loft."

"Ooh! I wanna see!" Tara exclaimed, dropping her bags by the door and dashing toward the stairs. Mommy followed, laughing like a little kid. Tara raced her up the stairs and found herself in a big room with a big bed against the wall. It was covered with a woven bedspread that sported a pattern of off-white diamonds lined up on a navy-blue background. A bathroom and a closet were off to the left. But best of all was the view. Not only out the floor-to-ceiling windows, but looking over the little half-wall of the loft down below to the living area. Tara felt almost some kind of bug—a butterfly, she decided—sitting on the wall of a room, unobserved by the people there, just watching everything unfold before her. It was an interesting feeling.

"Let's go swimming!" she said, turning to Mommy. "Please? I can see the lake! It's just across the road! Please?"

"It's too late in the day, honey-bear," Mommy said. By the time we unpack and eat dinner and get ready to go and then get there and get in the water, it will be time to come back."

"I guess," Tara said.

"Tell you what, though," Mommy said. "We'll go first thing after breakfast tomorrow."

"Yay!" Tara said.

"All right," Mommy said. "Now dinner."

They got halfway down the stairs when Mommy said, "You know what? We don't have food."

"Are we gonna starve, Mommy?" Tara asked in a small voice.

"Of course not, Tara-bear," Mommy said. "We'll just ride into town and pick some up, that's all. You'll just have to wait a little for your dinner."

Tara was so happy with everything that she'd be willing to wait days before eating anything.

She was happier than she'd been in a long time.

.

.

mistymidnight


	8. Chapter Eight

Nonsense 

**mistymidnight**

**Author's Notes: **Yay for feedback!

            More suggestions from gidgetgirl…again with the don't-read-if-you-don't-like-spoilers, though it's nothing truly major in this case, just some cute Mommy/Tara moments.

            Sorry it took so long to get around to it, but…yes, akissofdawn, the disclaimer in Chapter One was a nod to that line in "Laundry"…which is on my favorite stories list, by the way. I couldn't resist…it's such a great line! Kudos!

            To anyone who wants to see a picture and floor plan of the house where Tara and Mommy are staying, go here: MsoNormal>            Once again, thanks for all the feedback. One more review and "Nonsense" will surpass my most-reviewed fic so far—Sands of Time, which has twelve chapters and 31 reviews total.

Chapter Eight 

            Tara rolled over in bed. A bed that wasn't hers. For a second she couldn't remember what she was doing there, in that unfamiliar bed, but then it came back to her. She and Mommy were on vacation.

            _On vacation._ It seemed so strange to use that phrase and really mean it. Usually when she or Mommy said "On vacation", they were referring to the fact that there was no school for summer. Usually this was used in context with Donny, because Tara was only in preschool and therefore hadn't had many chances to say that she was "on vacation". But now she was, and for real, too.

            Tara opened her eyes and immediately squeezed them shut again against the bright sunlight coming in the window. It was still early, maybe seven o' clock, but Tara's window faced the east.

            She just laid there for a moment, covered in the thick pink comforter and the rustling sheets, feeling the sun shine on her face and make it warm. Then she turned her back to the window and opened her eyes again. As soon as her eyes adjusted to the morning sunshine, she got out of bed and went to wake up Mommy.

            It turned out she didn't have to, for when she opened her bedroom door, the first thing she saw was Mommy making homemade French toast at the stove.

            "Morning, Tara-bear," Mommy said, taking a break from cooking to lean down and give Tara a kiss on the forehead. "How did you sleep?"

            "Good," Tara said, hugging her mother and then moving across the kitchen to the counter, where she hoisted herself up onto one of the tall chairs there. "What about you?"

            "Very well, thank you," Mommy said, flipping two slices of French toast onto a plate. She turned off the stove burner and picked up two plates, the one she'd just topped with French toast and another that already had two slices on it. "Eat up," she said. "We're going down to the lake."

            "Yay!" Tara yelled, her mouth full of French toast already.

            "Tara," Mommy said warningly, "be careful. I don't want you choking on that French toast."

            "Ahwo," Tara assured her, mouth still full.

            "Tara."

            Tara swallowed and picked up her glass of orange juice. "Sorry," she said, setting the glass down on the counter.

            "It's okay, Tara. I just don't want to spend my vacation saving you from choking. In fact, I don't want choking involved in any way whatsoever."

            "Okay," Tara agreed, finishing off her first piece of toast. She pushed her plate away. "I'm full."

            "Okay," said her mother. "Throw it outside for the bids."

            Tara opened the glass door that led out onto the deck and heaved the bread as far away into the woods as she could. It flew through the air for about ten feet and then dropped to the ground. Tara, satisfied with the length of her throw, turned around and went back inside.

            "I'm gonna go put on my bathing suit," she said to Mommy.

            "Okay," Mommy said. "Don't forget to grab sunscreen."

            Tara nodded and went to change. When she came back, Mommy was just finishing cleaning up from breakfast.

            "Do you have the sunscreen?" Mommy asked.

            Tara nodded and held it out. Mommy squirted some into the palm of her hand and rubbed it on Tara's back and shoulders. This was difficult, because Tara could hardly keep still. She was very excited about going to the lake—the only 'swimming' she'd ever really done in her life was wading through the warm, slow-moving brook near the house. Sure, it had a tendency to get scummy in the hot summer months, but she and Bethie and Donny (sometimes even Bethie and Donny's friends) would always have fun down at the brook, splashing around and looking for frogs. Well, Bethie and her friends never looked for frogs. They were too scared. Tara liked frogs, but always had to look for them by herself, because Donny and his friends didn't want any _girls_ tagging along, especially not Donny's kid sister.

            When Mommy had finish rubbing sunscreen on Tara and had changed into her own bathing suit and grabbed some towels, she and Tara set off down the hill to cross the road and head for the lake.

.

.

            Tara fell in love with the lake the second she saw it. It was still and serene, gently lapping the shore and making a _fwipp, fwipp_ sound as it did. The sand on the beach felt soft but well-packed beneath Tara's feet, and when she stepped on the very wet sand near the water's edge, it made a sort of slurping noise.

            Mommy set down the towels and then stood up tall, breathing in the cool summer air. Then she said, "Okay, Tara, go ahead, but don't go in any deeper than here." She gestured to a spot about midway up Tara's torso.

            "Okay," Tara agreed happily, and dashed into the water. She slowed down when it was about knee-deep, and then began walking, the resistance of the water making it hard to go any faster.

            "How is it?" Mommy called out after her.

            "C-cold!" Tara shouted, rubbing her arms, delighted at the goosebumps covering it.

            Mommy laughed, then ran in after her, splashing.

            "Mommy!" Tara screeched, splashing water back at her. She cupped her hand and ran it through the water as she spun around in a circle, soaking Mommy with a splash of tidal-wave proportions.

            "Oh, Tara-bear, you're gonna pay for that," Mommy teased, then picked Tara up. "Hold you nose," she instructed, and Tara complied. "One, two…three!" Mommy shouted, and tossed Tara into the lake. Tara disappeared underwater, then bobbed back up to the surface. Doggy-paddling over to Mommy, she cried, "Do it again, Mommy! DO it again!"

            Mommy laughed and picked her up, repeating the game over and over until her arms were tired.

.

.

            Well, there it is. Hope you liked! I nominated it at the Shadows and Dust Fanficion Awards, hopefully it has a shot at winning (even though it's a work in progress).

            Well, let me know what you think!

mistymidnight


	9. Chapter Nine

**Nonsense **

**mistymidnight**

**Author's Notes: **Random: I like to think of myself as a workaholic, slaving away at the computer for 97% of my waking hours, but in reality, I'm probably just a slacker.

Thanks for the reviews. Because of all you readers, Nonsense is my most-reviewed fic!

And if you want to see the house, etc. where Mommy and Tara are staying, check out my website. The link is in my user profile. I'd link it from here, but every time I try it either erases everything after the link or goes replaces the link with some strange html code that has nothing to do with links at all.

And I recently had to immense pleasure of talking to the fabled Taylor, who resides in the house this story's house is based upon, and she liked the part of the story I read to her ( I read her Chapter Seven, with the description of the house) and she paid me this awesome compliment: "I love the way you write…it's like I'm actually there." So thanks to Taylor my head is just a bit more inflated. Figuratively, of course.

I'm toying with the idea of little Tara meeting one of the Little Scoobies, but I don't want to cheapen the storyline.

Wow, another note! I just read gidgetgirl's fic, Notions, which is also about Tara's childhood. If she ever posts it on ff.net, I'd suggest getting all your web-surfing butts over there! It's an awesome fic.

**Chapter Nine**

Mommy sat in one of the Adirondack chairs and Tara sat next to her on the porch floor, eating a sandwich. "Mommy," she said, her mouth half-full of cheese, tomato, and pickle, "can we go back to the lake after lunch?"

"Sure," Mommy said, taking another sip of iced tea. "How 'bout we try out something different this time?"

"Like what?" Tara asked washing down her odd sandwich combination with a gulp of lemonade.

"Well, we could try kayaking," Mommy said. "If you want. Tammy's family has a kayak."

"A kayak?" Tara asked nervously. "If it flipped over, would I get stuck upside down underwater?"

"No, sweetheart," Mommy said soothingly, patting her on the shoulder. "That's an _ocean_ kayak. This is an open kayak. It's just like a canoe."

Tara wrinkled her face in confusion. "Why don't they just call it a canoe, then?"

"Because of the paddles," Mommy said, ruffling Tara's hair.

"Okay," Tara said simply, satisfied with the answer. She stood up, leaving a round wet splotch on the ground where she had been sitting in her wet bathing suit. "Let's go."

.

Tara sat a still as she possibly could as Mommy got into the kayak.

"It's okay if you move a little, Tara," Mommy said, holding out a paddle toward Tara, who took it while moving as little as possible. "You won't make the kayak fall over."

Tara just gave her a nervous look that required no actual moving and turned around stiffly. "I don't really w-want to sit in front," she said.

"You could sit in the back," Mommy said, "but then you'd have to steer, and that's harder."

"How do you know so much about kayaks, Mommy?"

"We had a canoe when I was little," Mommy said. "It can't be too different, can it?"

Tara would have shrugged, but she didn't want to move, so she just gave Mommy a look.

.

Much to her surprise, Tara found that she liked kayaking. She didn't love it, but it was okay. She liked the feeling of gliding through the water, and she even liked the ache in her arms from paddling. Little waves were fun. The kayak bounced up and down, but not enough to be in any danger of capsizing. She hated the bigger waves, though. The kayak rocked back and forth and it scared Tara. She didn't want to tip over.

.

Evening was creeping over the mountains when Tara and Mommy returned home. Mommy made spaghetti for dinner and she and Tara ate it on the porch again, watching the sunset. When everything was dark, Mommy lit some candles on the porch and they listened to crickets and watched fireflies. Tara sat on Mommy's lap on the Adirondack chair, and the two of them sat under the blanket from the living room, just enjoying the warm night and each other's company.

"Well, Tara-bear," Mommy asked, running her hand through Tara's hair, still wet and stringy from all the time she'd spent in the water that day, "did you have fun today?"

"I did," Tara began, trying to put her incredible happiness into words. "I-well, i-it w-was just…and…fun…I…"

Mommy smiled and kissed Tara's forehead. "I understand what you mean." She shifted Tara to the other side of her lap and said briskly, "Now, do you know what tomorrow is?"

Tara thought for a moment. "Um, Tuesday, I think."

"That's right," Mommy said, "but what else is tomorrow?"

"The fourth," Tara answered after a moment, then said, "Oh! The Fourth of July!"

"Yes," Mommy said. "What I want to know is how do you want to celebrate it?"

"I-I-I get to choose?" Tara asked, astounded.

"Sure," Mommy said. "You don't get to choose enough at home, Tara. This is your chance to."

"Are—can there be fireworks?" Tara asked.

"Sure," Mommy said. "When I went to the store the other day, I saw a flyer on the door. There are fireworks over the lake tomorrow night. We can drive into town around eight, how does that sound?"

Tara grinned widely. "It sound perfect, Mommy!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around her mother's neck. "I can't wait!"

"I'm glad," Mommy laughed, "but what do you want to do all day tomorrow?"

"Let's eat Jell-O," Tara said promptly. "Before it gets jiggly."

.

.

mistymidnight


	10. Chapter Ten

**Nonsense **

**mistymidnight**

**Author's Notes: **Okay, I'll be honest. I'm in a writing slump. I beg your forgiveness in advance if this chapter is crap-tastic. I was gonna put it off until an unspecified amount of time, but then I realized the Fourth is a week from tomorrow, so I figured I'd better get it done now because I am the world's greatest procrastinator.

**Chapter Ten**

Tara looked up at her mother. "Pickles," she said.

"Pickles?" Mommy asked, looking down at the expectant face of her almost-five-year-old daughter.

"Yes," Tara said. "Pickles. I want them for our picnic."

"I thought we made a list last night," Mommy said, clearing up the breakfast dishes.

"We did," Tara said, "but I was tired then. Now that I'm not, I want pickles."

"Okay," Mommy said. "But only because I love you so much, Tara-bear."

Tara grinned. "And Jell-O," she said to herself. "Before it gets jiggly."

Mommy smiled.

.

"Why do we celebrate the Fourth of July?" Tara asked her mother as they walked down the aisle of the only grocery store in town.

"Because that's when our country became a country," Mommy explained, checking the list and crossing off "mayonnaise".

"It wasn't a country before?" Tara asked. "What was it? Did it just appear one day?"

"No, it was a colony," Mommy said. "From England."

"I'd like to meat an English person," Tara said thoughtfully. "Someday. Maybe even the Queen. And then we could have a tea party."

Mommy smiled. "What would you say to the Queen of England, Tara?"

Tara thought. "I would say, 'How do you do, your highness…Nice weather we've been having, your majesty…' You know, English things."

"I see," Mommy said, crossing mustard off the list. "Well, if you ever meet an English person, you sure wil know what to say."

"That I will," Tara said in her best grown-up tone of voice. "By Jove."

Mommy laughed and the happy pair walked into the next aisle.

.

"I wanna help," Tara said, resting her chin in her hands and her elbows on the counter.

"Okay," Mommy said. "You can mix the egg yolks, mayonnaise, and mustard."

"Okay," Tara agreed, sliding off the tall counter chair and skipping over to where Mommy was.

"Mix it up real good, Tara," Mommy instructed. "I'll make the sandwiches. Peanut butter and jelly?"

"Yes, please," Tara said, happily mixing the egg yolk with the seasonings and singing a little song she was making up as she went along: "Yellow, yellow, yellow, like the sun, like the sun. Mixing up the eggs is fun, very fun. Mayo, mayo, mayo, mayo, yummy, yummy, yum. I love Miss Kitty and my Mommy Mom Mom."

"That's quite a song, Tara," Mommy said.

"Thank you," Tara said primly. "I made it up just now."

"You did a very nice job with the rhyming," Mommy said kindly, spreading jelly onto a slice of white bread. "Are you going to be a poet when you grow up?"

"No," Tara said very certainly. "I am going to go to college and be very magical."

"And how did you know this?" Mommy asked playfully.

"The lake told me," Tara said in a very matter-of-fact sort of voice.

One look at her face told Tara's mother that Tara was completely serious. "The lake?"

"Yes," Tara replied, almost off-handedly. "When we were getting ready to go float in the kayak and you were getting it ready and told me not to go in the water, I looked into the water from the dock and I saw me. But not me now, me later." She frowned. "I'm not a beautiful princess."

"You are to me, Tara-pooh-honey-bear," Mommy said proudly, sweeping Tara into a hug. So she did have the same…qualities…as her mother. Even though Tara's Mommy knew that the powers would cause Tara grief and trouble, she was happy to know that Tara was strong.

"Mommy," Tara mumbled against her mother's shoulder, "I can't breathe."  
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Mommy said, letting go of Tara and turning back to the sandwiches. "So what else did the lake show you?"

"Not very much," Tara answered. "A man. He had black hair. I don't think he likes me very much."

"Why not?" Mommy asked.

Tara shrugged. "He just doesn't. I can tell. He doesn't like my friends, neither."

"Oh?"

"Nope."

"Did he scare you?"

"No," Tara said, pressing the fork into the deviled egg filling to make designs. "I'm more worried about trees."

"Trees?"

"Yes. This man makes trees very sad, makes them do bad things. Sad trees…weeping willows."

"Does the man kill trees?"

"No," Tara said. Then she abruptly changed the subject, not from discomfort or boredom, but simply on a whim. "The egg mush is done."

"Thank you, sweetheart," Mommy said. If Tara wasn't worried about this awesome vision, Mommy wasn't going to worry either. You had to trust your heart when it came to power, because that was where power came from.

She was jerked out of her thoughts by Tara's enthusiastic question:

"Can we mix the Jell-O now?"

.

"How about right here?" Mommy asked, stopping on the hillside.

"No," Tara said. "I want to be near the water."

Mommy sighed and readjusted her hold on the picnic basket and the blankets she had brought. Tara pranced happily down to the waterfront, Miss Kitty bouncing along in her hand. "Right here, Mommy!" Tara called, then shrank uncomfortably when so many pairs of eyes turned to look at her. When Mommy made her way through the growing crowd of spectators, Tara hid behind her as best she could, to be safe from all the eyes.

"Very nice spot," Mommy complimented her, setting the basket and blankets down on the ground. She began to spread one blanket out. Suddenly a small figure went whizzing past. A girl, about Tara's age, with a pretty face and dark brown hair, and being quickly followed by another figure—an adult.

"Come back, sweetheart!" it was calling. The fireworks will start soon!"

Tara looked around, but the girl was nowhere to be seen. Then she heard someone behind her mutter, "Fireworks, schmireworks. I am _not_ sitting on the ground if it's wet."

Tara spun around and came face to face with the girl. "Shh!" the little girl commanded. "I'm hiding." She glowered at the near-frantic silhouette searching the hillside. Then she turned to Tara. "I'm Cordelia," she said. "Who are you?"

Tara could only stare at the girl. Her shyness was creeping up on her.

"Can't you talk?" Cordelia asked.

Mommy walked over and saved the day. "This is Tara," she said to Cordelia.

"Hi!" Cordelia said, smiling sweetly at Tara's mother. Then she turned her attention back to Tara. "How old are you?"

Tara shyly held up four fingers.

Cordelia let out a whoop. "I'm five," she informed them. "That means I'm older than you."

"Cordelia! Pumpkin!" called the grown-up Cordelia had been running away from.

"Oh. Mummy." Cordelia sounded far less than thrilled, even when the figure, whom Tara figured was Cordelia's mother, came up and hugged Cordelia. Her thoughts were confirmed when the woman exclaimed, "Oh, sweetheart, you had Mommy so worried! Come back and watch—"

Cordelia stomped her little foot. "I am _not_ going to sit on the ground," she informed her mother. "It's wet. I'll ruin my dress." She turned to Tara for a second and said, "It was _very_ expensive."

"I know, sweetheart," Cordelia's mother went on, ignoring the remark about the dress price. "Daddy went to the car. He's getting you a chair to sit on."

"Is it a big chair?" Cordelia asked, allowing herself to be led away. She waved over her shoulder at Tara and Mommy and then was lost with the rest of the crowd.

Tara watched her go and the tiptoed over to the water's edge. "Mommy," she whispered, staring into the lake, "I see it again."

Mommy didn't have to ask what. She made her way over to Tara and looked over her shoulder.

What she saw made her want to cry—with both joy and sadness. Her Tara was a beautiful young woman. Faces flickered in the reflection, winking in and out too fast for either Mommy or Tara to positively identify them. But somehow Mommy realized they were a part of Tara's life.

Mommy's face didn't flicker.

It wasn't there at all.

"Mommy?" Tara asked.

"What, sweetheart?" Mommy asked.

"The fireworks are starting."

Tara's Mommy looked up at the sky and watched some blue sparkles fizzle out overheard. She supposed she'd heard the _boom_ of the fireworks, but it just hadn't registered. "Well," she said to Tara, "let's go watch." The two made their way back to blanket and laid down on it. Mommy handed Tara a devilled egg, which she bit into without ever taking her eyes off the beautiful splashes of color in the sky.

This was the best kind o magic.

.

mistymidnight

I'm actually happy with how it turned out. More coming soon!


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Nonsense **

**mistymidnight**

**Author's Notes: **To let you know: this may seem like the last chapter, but it isn't! I've got lots of other ideas, and I plan to take this story for awhile, possibly up to Mommy's death. (Sad, yes, but I think it would be interesting to see how Tara deals with it. In the episode "Intervention", she says she did stupid stuff, like sneaking out and staying up all night. And in "Tough Love", she hints that Donny had a hard time with Mommy's death. Hmm…)

To answer some questions/comments:

-To Alias-BossLady: The way I see it, Tara and Cordy would be about the same age. Tara is almost as old as Cordy (she's her mother's "almost-five-year-old daughter"), and Cordy and Willow were the same age on the show, and Tara was the same age as Willow as well.

-To gidgetgirl: I dunno about the Cordy-thing…maybe the nanny quit last-minute and they had to drag poor little Cordelia along on vacation with them. Yeah, I noticed Tara's out-of-characterness as well, but I was tired when I wrote the chapter and didn't feel like going back and rewriting. That's my laziness for ya.

To everyone who has reviewed thus far…thanks! And keep it up!

Also, I just found out that "Nonsense" got nominated at the Barefoot Awards! And it wasn't me nominating myself! Yay! I'm curious: who nominated me? You have my undying gratitude and happiness!

Okay, enough with the gooey-happy-declarations. On with the chapter!

**Chapter Eleven**

"Mommy," Tara said. "Can we buy some marshmallows?"

"What for, Tara-bear?" Mommy asked, chewing on her pencil. She was writing a thank-you note to Tammy for letting them use the house. Much to Tara's dismay, she and Mommy would be leaving this time tomorrow, heading back home. They'd probably never see the lake again. Tara knew this. She could _feel_ it. Every plant, every grain of dirt, every drop of water, every ant, every fiber of Tara felt it. Everything was pulling her toward the lake, and away from home.

_Home. It's such a stupid word,_ Tara thought. _If home is where the heart is, then this is definitely home. Not my house where Daddy yells and Mommy cries and Bethie tells me what to do and Donny is mean._

"Tara?" Mommy asked, putting the pencil down and swiveling her neck to look Tara in the eye. "Are you okay?"

"Just thinking," Tara said vaguely.

"I hope they were happy thoughts," Mommy said.

Tara was silent.

"Well," Mommy said, picking up on Tara's discomfort, "you never answered the first question. What do you want marshmallows for?"

"Oh. Uh, roasting," Tara said, forcing herself not to think about tomorrow. It would come quickly enough on its own without her thinking about it all day.

"You want to have a campfire?" Mommy asked.

"Yes," Tara replied. "With marshmallows. I've never had campfire marshmallows. Only marshmallow fluff."

"I know, sweetheart," Mommy said. "Why don't we go all-out, and get stuff for s'mores?"

"S'mores?" Tara repeated.

"Oh, you'll like them," Mommy smiled. "They're like marshmallow and chocolate bar sandwiches."

"Yummy." Tara's mouth watered at the thought.

"Well, let's run down to the store and get some," Mommy said.

.

Tara wanted to cry as she sat outside by their campfire. Everything thing seemed so final. It was their last night at the lake and everything seemed to be saying goodbye. Every time the fire popped and sent embers flying up into the air, Tara couldn't help but think about her time at the lake. A batch of embers popped and went flying skyward, and Tara thought, _House, lake, kayak, Jell-O, fireworks, Cordelia._ Then they all fizzled out and Tara went about labeling a new set of embers: _splashing, egg mush, cemetery, dirt road, my room. _Tara did think of it as "her" room; she felt more welcomed there than she did at Daddy's house.

"Why the long face?" Mommy asked, spearing a marshmallow on a stick and handing it to Tara to toast.

"Nothing."

"Don't wanna go home, do you?"

Tara nodded.

Mommy sighed. "I understand. I feel the same way sometimes." Then, as if realizing what she'd said, she added quickly, "and that's something you are not to repeat, Tara."

"Okay," Tara sighed.

She really didn't want to go home.

.

"Well, here we are," Mommy said the next afternoon, parking the truck in the driveway. "Home sweet—"

Tara ran away before Mommy could finish.

.

It was a silent ride to the airport the next morning. Tara missed the lake, she missed the house, she missed the kayak, and she even missed the mosquitoes. Sure, they had mosquitoes here as well, but the just weren't the same.

Daddy and Donny seemed happy. Donny was obviously tired out, but he was bubbling over with information about the plane ride and the buildings and how he got _thisclose_ to meeting the president. Tara had her doubts about the last one, but Daddy wasn't bothering to correct Donny and Tara mentally let it slide.

She studied her parents faces instead. While at the lake, Tara had been like a sponge, soaking up sights and smells and sounds and feelings. It seemed to relax her, and relaxation was what she needed. She couldn't talk about the trip she and Mommy had taken, and she was half-afraid that if she thought about it, she'd blurt out something she and Mommy would both pay for.

First she studied Mommy, who was sitting in the passenger seat, having surrendered the wheel to Daddy. She was staring out the window, and her face was unreadable. Tara turned her attention to an easier subject: Daddy. His face was set as he drove, but as she watched Tara noticed it change from a bored driving-face to shock to anger to outrage. Tara wondered what one of the other drivers could have done to make Daddy so angry. Then she realized Daddy wasn't looking at the road. He was looking at the odometer. And then Tara remembered:

_"Hey look!" Donny exclaimed, jerking Tara out of her rhythm of highway-watching. He pointed at the odometer. "Two-three-four-five-six! It's in order!" The six changed to a seven and Donny frowned at it. "Well, it was."_

Uh-oh.

.

mistymidnight


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Nonsense **

**mistymidnight**

**Author's Notes: **Well, I'm smack-dab in the middle of revamping my site…but I'm taking a much-needed break (I can't seem to make a matching layout and color scheme) to work on fanfic, where no color scheme is needed. Yay!

Seriously, I've been busy. I have to get the site back up by Friday, because Saturday morning I'm headed down south to Texas. (My flight leaves far too early, if you ask me.) I have to pack for that trip, I was sick yesterday, and so on and so on. I did get Buffy Season Six on DVD though, and that has had a partial effect on the lack of updates.

Well, here we go!

**Chapter 12**

Tara stared down at her feet. She was sitting on her bed, clutching Miss Kitty as tightly as she could, and she was listening to the yelling downstairs. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and she flinched every time Daddy's voice rose.

"Who pays the bills?" Daddy yelled. "Who is the breadwinner in this family? Is it you?" There was silence, then the awful sound of someone being slapped. "Answer me!" Daddy roared.

Tara heard some whimpering, and then some mumbled words. She supposed Mommy had answered and that it was the answer Daddy was looking for, because she heard Daddy reply, "That's right, and don't you forget! What were you thinking? That you were Ms. High-And-Mighty-Do-As-I-Please? Let me tell you something, women like that end up dead or disgraced. You are an insult to this whole family, do you hear me? You are a disgrace! Women do not do whatever they want! They obey their husbands! It's in the wedding vows! You break our wedding vows and expect to get away with it?"

Tara heard her mother take in a shaky breath, and then say, "You a-and D-Donny w-w-were o-off, a-and I th-thought it w-would b-be f-fun…"

"You thought it would be _fun_?!" Daddy thundered. "No, you didn't think at all! If you had, you would have done what you were supposed to—stayed home and taken care of the house!"

Tara pulled Miss Kitty up to her face and sobbed. She got Mommy in trouble, and it was all her fault. She wanted to go downstairs and stand up for Mommy, but she was too scared. And she didn't know what to do.

Before she knew it, the door burst open and Daddy was standing there. "Oh, stop that crying," he snapped. "If you're old enough to break the rules of this house and go off with your mother, you're too old to be crying." He spotted Miss Kitty and snatched her out of Tara's hands. "And you're too old for this. No school-age daughter of mine is going to carry a stuffed animal around."

"Daddy…" Tara sobbed. "I'm sorry! I am! Don't take Miss Kitty away!"

"Miss Kitty, huh?" Daddy said. "Well, I'm sure Scout will have a lot of fun with Miss Kitty."

"No, Daddy!" Tara cried, jumping for Miss Kitty against all her better judgment. Daddy knelt down, throwing Miss Kitty to the grounds as he did, and grabbed Tara by the shoulders, shaking her. "Bad girls like you are never happy," he told her. "God sends his wrath down on them."

"No," Tara said quietly, without thinking. "The Goddess is kind to everyone—"

"The Goddess?!" Daddy shouted. "That _Goddess?! _Tara, that's not true. Nothing Mommy says is. Mommy is a stupid woman. The Goddess is not real. You were born in to a Christian family, and by God, you're going to grow up with Christian values, none of this pagan crap." He shook her harder, one final time, and then stood up. "It's nonsense," he said, stepping on Miss Kitty's stomach on the way out of the room. "It's all nonsense."

.

I'm not sure how much I liked this chapter. Ehh…I'll post it anyway.

mistymidnight


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Nonsense **

**mistymidnight**

**Author's Notes: **I have returned!

I'm in the mood to write again…vacation was great, but a week without updates is too long for me, and _I_ know what's going to happen!

I was planning to spread the storyline out more, but in the next few chapters I'll probably cut to school age and pre-teen/teenage Tara. I love writing this story and I don't want it to end too fast!

Also, not only is this story the most-reviewed, it's also officially the longest! Yay!

**Chapter 13**

Tara swept Miss Kitty off the ground and hugged her so tightly that it was like Miss Kitty was an extension of Tara herself. Miss Kitty cried when Tara cried, and Miss Kitty laughed when Tara laughed.

Miss Kitty was sobbing.

And she was confused. And Miss Kitty's tummy hurt from where Daddy stepped on her.

Tara heard the door slam and a car engine start. Daddy was going for coffee. He always went for coffee when he was mad. Tara was glad it wasn't whiskey. Once Bethie's daddy had whiskey, and Bethie had cried afterwards. Tara had never seen Bethie cry before.

Tara tiptoed down the hallway to the bathroom, where she unrolled the roll of toilet paper and wrapped Miss Kitty's stomach in it, the way she'd seen doctors do on TV, when she was allowed to watch it. Except the doctors used real bandages. But then again, their patients were real people, not stuffed cats. Miss Kitty was pretend, so pretend bandages would work.

Tara shoved her thoughts about Miss Kitty being pretend out of her head. She didn't like to think Miss Kitty was pretend. But Miss Kitty was her only friend, aside from Mommy.

And Mommy needed a friend now.

"Sweetheart, go call Donny and Timmy inside for lunch," Mommy said, placing two plates of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on the table.

"Okay," Tara said. Daddy had acted all week as if nothing was wrong, and Tara was trying to act like it, too. But inside she was confused. Why wasn't anybody talking about it? Tara had expected that Daddy was punish she and Mommy as long as possible, but he hadn't mentioned it at all. Tara was treading carefully. _Like a land mine,_ she thought. Most almost-five-year-olds didn't know or understand land mines, but Tara did. Men on TV talked about it, and Tara had heard them. She had asked Mommy what they were, and Mommy explained that they were bad things for war. If you stepped on one, everything went ka-boom. _If you step on Daddy, things go ka-boom._

Tara went out to the backyard and searched for Donny and Timmy. They were nowhere to be seen.

"Donny?" she called timidly. "T-Timmy?"

She heard a loud rustling in the woods near the edge of the backyard. Donny and Timmy burst through, Timmy empty-handed, Donny with a slingshot and something fluffy in his hands.

"Look, Tare!" he yelled. "Look what I shot!"

_Shot? _Tara thought. Then she realized what Donny had said. She felt sick.

"A bird!" Donny exclaimed, dropping it on the porch. Tara wanted to look away, but her eyes wouldn't listen. Her neck wasn't working. It wouldn't turn away. Tara stared at the bird's still form, then asked quietly, "What are you going to do with it?"

"I dunno. That's not the point. I got it!" Donny did a small dance of triumph. "It was just sitting there, and I took aim, and whoosh! The dumb thing never knew what hit it. I was that good!" He thought for a second. "I guess I'll wait for Scout to come around and chew on it."

He and Timmy ran inside, screen door banging behind them. Tara looked at the bird again. If she concentrated very hard, she could almost see it's chest fall and rise, alive.

Then she blinked, and reality took hold again.

She wished she could bring the birdie back, but Mommy had always told her that you couldn't use magic to change life and death. The Circle of Life must be honored, Mommy said, and death was a natural part of the circle.

Tara walked over to the bird and knelt beside it. She placed her hand on its wing, its head. Then she picked up the dead bird and carried it to the woods.

Other bird chirped in the trees and bugs hummed around. Tara looked around the woods and found a perfect spot: A place where the sun shone through the trees just right, making a heart-shaped section of light on the ground.

She found a stick and struggled to dig through the tough dirt and the hard-packed ground. Her stick hit something hard and she used her fingers to unearth a flat piece of rock. She yanked it out of the ground and tossed the stick aside before resuming her task with the rock. It was stronger than the stick, and soon she had a good-sized hole.

She was about to lay the bird in the hole when she heard Bethie ask, "Whatcha doin'?"

"Burying the bird," Tara replied quietly, secretly angry that Bethie had spoiled her private moment.

"That's stupid," Bethie said. "And not only is it stupid, it's a waste. Scout could eat that, you know."

"I know."

"Stupid," Bethie muttered, and turned to leave. "Stupid and boring and gross."

Tara waited until Bethie left before resuming her sad task. "I'm sorry," she whispered to the bird. "Bethie doesn't understand. And I'm sorry Donny killed you."

She laid the bird gently in its grave. "And I'm sorry I don't have a coffin." She began to cover the bird with dirt, saying a silent prayer asking the Goddess to guide the spirit of the bird. Tara wasn't quite sure if this was exactly what the Goddess did, but she figured that since the Goddess was all-loving, she keep the bird's soul safe, and that was all Tara wanted.

Tara finished covering the hole and patted it gently, her hands leaving dents in the ground. Tara hoped she didn't squish the bird.

She picked up the rock she had used to dig the hole and examined its edges. One was very sharp. Perfect. She looked around for another rock, found one, and carried it over to the gravesite, stopping every few seconds to put the rock down and catch her breath.

Once she reached the gravesite, she picked up her sharp rock and began engraving.

It was almost nighttime when Tara returned home. She had spent the last hours painstakingly engraving "Bird" into the rock, along with the date and year. After that she covered the grave with leaves and needles from trees, and picked a fern to decorate the grave.

Daddy wasn't home yet, but he would be soon. Tara went upstairs to wash the dirt off of her hands and out from under her nails, and Mommy washed the tearstains off Tara's face.

Dinner that night was chicken and dumplings. Tara stayed upstairs in her room, not feeling well enough to eat downstairs with everyone else.

After supper Mommy brought some leftover chicken. "In case you want a bite to eat," she said, and smiled. The bruise on her cheek was fading.

Tara looked at her supper and thought of the bird in the woods.

"I'm not hungry."

Okay, now I feel obligated to answer questions and comments I have received and may receive for this chapter.

gidgetgirl—I see Tara as trying to blend in because she was afraid of "land mines". If you blend in, you don't rock the boat or "set people off", so to speak. As for Faith, she reacted in a different way, I guess. Perhaps her abuse was more physical, whereas Tara's mom gets the physical end of the abuse and Tara gets the emotional end.

As for Daddy taking Tara's stuffed animal: I definitely see your point about his wanting her to be a nurturing person. But he was angry, and people do stupid things when they're angry. Not to mention they can be completely out of character. I suppose that's why he gave Miss Kitty back. He was using the scare tactic on Tara, threatening her, though not physically. Tara would do anything to keep Miss Kitty. He was playing on this, letting it hang in the air: _If you stay in line, you get to keep Miss Kitty._

As for the religion thing…it just kinda popped in and popped right back out. Christianity is the exact opposite of paganism, and a lot of Christians can take that over- seriously. (To any Christians—don't be insulted by that statement. I'm Christian as well, and I have a pretty strong faith. When I say _some_ Christians, I mean just that—some. Not all. That would be like saying every person that walks into a bank is going to rob it.) Daddy is mad that Tara is being brought up the exact opposite of the way he wants her to be—she doesn't always obey, she's been shown magic, and she's been exposed to paganism.

About Mommy's stuttering—she only stutters around Daddy when he's angry. When things are okay, she tries to keep them okay. But when her husband is abusing her, she breaks down and her front she puts up for the family—especially for Tara—is dissolved. See the author's note in chapter two for a little more reasoning.

As for the exclamation points—I was in the moment. =P

Okay, that should just about cover it. Thanks for reading!

mistymidnight


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Nonsense **

**mistymidnight**

**Author's Notes: **I think I'll state right up front that I have no idea where this chapter is going. I have no plot in mind and no…well, no anything, really. So if the chapter seems pointless, that's probably 'cause it is. =-P

And…the lack of reviews is making me very sad and not in the mood to update. I noticed that lots of folks have me on author alert, but not many of them reviewed. If y'all wanna read, you gotta review. I write whole chapters for you, can't you write a sentence for me?

Also, Buffy was born in '81. According to , Willow was born in '82. I've decided that Tara was born in '82 as well. This way, Cordelia could have been born in '81, making her be older than Tara (see chapter 10) but having her fall in the same age group as well.

**Chapter 14**

"I don't understand," Tara said to Mommy, picking at the vegetable soup her mother had made instead of leftover chicken. "Why did the bird have to die? Why today? Why Donny? Why _that_ bird?"

Mommy sighed and stroked Tara's hair. "We don't understand everything that happens, Tara," Mommy said. "But there's a reason for everything. We might not know why, or how, but nothing happened accidentally. Nothing."

"What about car accidents?"

"Car accidents are sad, and they might seem like they have no reason for happening, but each being on this earth—ants to birds to people—has a destiny. If I died tomorrow, there would be a reason."

"What?"

"What what?"

"What would the reason be?"

Mommy pulled Tara onto her lap. "I don't know, sweetheart. I don't make the plans. I just live them out."

"Is that why Daddy yells?" Tara asked. "Because it's part of his plan?"

Mommy sighed. "People have plans, Tara, but they have free will, too."

"Free will?"

"People can choose, sweetheart. Daddy's life is mapped out for him, the big parts, at least, but he has to decide what he does in between."

"What's my plan?" Tara inquired.

"I can't answer that, sweetie," Mommy replied. "All I know is that you are going to be a beautiful young woman. You're going to make me very proud."

"Really?"

"Really. It's in the life-time Mommy guarantee."

Tara giggled. "So there's a reason for everything?"

"Yes," Mommy confirmed. "Everything. Don't ever forget that."

Tara looked solemnly up at her mother. "I promise."

================================================================

_OCTOBER 23, 1998_

"Mom?" Tara slid her backpack off her shoulder and it fell to the ground. She realized what she'd done and quickly picked it up, opening the closet door and hanging it on the hook on the wall next to the coat rack. "Mom? Where are you?"

"Here, sweetie," she heard her mother call from upstairs. Tara rolled her eyes slightly, but only jokingly. She liked how her mother still used 'baby names' for her. Even though she was seventeen now and starting her senior year, the baby names let her hold onto her childhood. Tara wasn't quite sure it was much of a childhood to hold onto, but it was hers nonetheless. She secretly pitied Bethie—no, wait, _Beth_—whose parents insisted that she drop her own baby name as soon as she entered second grade. Beth had gone along readily, but in her mind Tara would always know her as Bethie.

She jogged lightly up the stairs toward Mom and Dad's room, pumping her arms like she was jogging for real. Daddy thought jogging was un-lady-like. Tara had discovered this early on, but it was reinforced freshman year. Tara thought girls' cross-country running would be fun, but didn't dare mention it to Dad. No, it was Bethie that did that. Tara could remember the day perfectly, how Beth had told Dad that Tara wanted to _run_, to get sweaty and wear shorts and travel. Dad had thanked Beth for this information and given Tara the same speech as usual: you are nothing. You are good for nothing except housework. Remember that you are unimportant. You are not needed in this family. And by God, you are not going to act un-lady-like.

In her heart, Tara knew all this. She was not much of anything—a stuttering, ugly, useless girl. She was reminded of this every day. No matter how much Mommy told her that she was smart and beautiful and precious, Tara knew Mom was lying. It was Mommy's opinion against the other six billion people in the world. Three guesses at whose opinion mattered.

"What's going on, Mom?" Tara asked. "How did your doctor's appointment go?"

"Fine. There's a few tests that the results haven't come in for yet. They'll be ready next week."

Tara frowned. "Is anything wrong?"

Mom smiled and shook her head. "Tara-bear, it's just routine. Everything will bne fine." She turned away from Tara and coughed. "Excuse me."

Tara patted her mother's shoulder. "It's a good thing you went to the doctor's today. You've been coughing more than usual." She thought for a second. "Maybe you're coming down with something."

"I hope not," her mother said. "But that's not important right now. Why don't we talk about Samhain?"

================================================================

"Samhain?" Beth scoffed as she and Tara walked to school the next day . "Don't you and Aunt Brooke do anything normal?"

"It-it's just Halloween," Tara said meekly. "That's normal."

"Not the way you folks celebrate it," Beth sniffed. "Why can't you go to parties like normal people?"

Tara decided to use the opportunity to change the subject. "You're going to a Halloween party?"

"Yes," Bethie said. "Well, not so much a party. Mom and Dad would never go for that. I'm just going over to Holly's, and we're going to watch her brothers and sisters and hand out candy to trick-or-treaters, you know, stuff like that."

"Cool," Tara said, because it was pretty much the only thing she _could _say. According to Beth, everything she did was cooler than _anything_ Tara did.

Tara never said differently.

No one likes land mines.

================================================================

I told you I had no idea where this chapter was going. I'm not quite happy with the characters. Beth didn't sound like enough of a Daddy's girl, Tara didn't sound timid enough, etc. But hopefully it'll work out later.

mistymidnight


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Nonsense**

**mistymidnight**

****

**Author's Notes: **I'm trying something new. Since my Microsoft Word doesn't work, I uploaded a blank document (I can still _upload_ Word, I just can't _open_ it. Very silly computers, indeed. If you listen to my dad they're the root of all evil. If we got rid of the computers, there would be no war, conflict, discrimination, or limp salads. But I digress.) So now I'm writing directly into the Preview/Edit text box. That's why it might look weird.

**Chapter Fifteen**

"Tara."

Tara looked up from her homework at her father. "Yes, Daddy?"

Her father gestured for her to stand up. "Tara, go get Donny. I need some help outside."

"Donny's not here," Tara said. "I don't exactly know where he is."

"Then you'll have to help me, girl," Daddy said, not unkindly. But he didn't exactly sound thrilled at the idea either.

"Okay, sure," Tara said, willing to help. Daddy was actually asking for her to help him. Maybe he didn't think so little of her after all.

"Good," Daddy said, walking to the back door. "I need some help turning the gardens over for next year."

Tara nodded and followed him across the back porch, her school shoes making a _clickety-clack_ sound across the old wood.

At the sound, Daddy turned around. "You can't do it in those shoes," he spat disgustedly.

"I-I can ch-change my shoes, s-sir," Tara said quickly. She _couldn't _mess this up. She _wouldn't_.

"Don't bother," Daddy snapped, continuing toward the garden. "Tell Donny to help me when he gets back."

Tara frowned at herself, ashamed. For a second, she'd thought she was useful for something. For a second, she'd had a purpose.

She turned slowly and headed for the back door, using her foot to adjust the doormat so it was more centered in front of the door. _I can do _something_ useful in these shoes._

Then she said it. Like a swear word that slips out when someone is extremely frustrated or angry, Tara said it. "Spiritus, pneum, anima." _Breath, breath, breath._ Tara recognized the words--Latin--but couldn't exactly place why she'd said them. She wasn't familiar with the combination she'd just recited.

She found out what had happened when her father's frightened swearing was carried to her by the wind. "Jesus!" he yelled. "It's moving! All on its own!"

Tara raced to the garden and was greeted by her cursing father and a struggling scarecrow, trying its hardest to get down from the pole it was perched upon. Tara understood. Something inside her had snapped. Right about her worthlessness or not, she didn't need Daddy reminding her about it every day. She grinned as she said the next word: "Cesso." _Cease._ The scarecrow stopped its hellish dance and hung limply as scarecrows were supposed to. And Daddy looked terrified. Good. And he knew that Tara had been involved in the whole thing. Even better.

"Tara, go inside," he commanded, trying to retain his authority. "You pull that magic crap again and you'll be very, very sorry. Understood?"

Tara nodded. She knew when Daddy was serious, and she'd never use her magic to harm someone. She wasn't even capable of it.

Daddy knew.

Tara cursed him for his knowledge.

====================================================

"Mom?" Tara called, returning home from school. "How was your appointment? Did the test results come back in?"

No answer. "Mom?" She heard a tiny noise from upstairs and begin to climb the staircase. "Mom? You okay?"

She opened the door to her mother's room and gasped in shock. Her mother was sobbing, sprawled out on the bed.

"Mom! Mom! What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

Her mother looked up at her through red-rimmed eyes, smiled weakly, and said, "The results came back."

====================================================

Lung cancer. Tara had heard about it. Apparently smoking increased your odds of getting it. Mom had never touched a cigarette in her life, except when she was handing one to Daddy.

So Daddy got to smoke and Mommy got to get sick because of it. It wasn't fair. Daddy zipped right along with his lovely addiction to cigarettes, without a care in the world, and everybody else paid the price. It made Tara sick to her stomach.

But what made her feel worse was the dread she felt for herself. _Am I going to die of lung cancer?_ She felt horrible that she question wasn't _Is my mother going to die of lung cancer?_

Tara hugged Miss Kitty for the first time in years.

And then she set off for the woods.

She had some thinking to do. And she knew just the spot.

====================================================

Three guesses where Tara's going!

I didn't really want to make Tara's mom have cancer, because that's what Joyce died of. But I have limited knowledge of medicine and diseases, and the only other potentially fatal illness I could think of was Alzheimers. I had it on repeat in my brain (both my grandfathers died from Alzheimers) and couldn't think of anything else. So I chose cancer. And I feel bad about having to choose a way to possibly bump off one of my characters. =(

mistymidnight


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Nonsense **

**mistymidnight**

**Author's Notes:** Well, I was in the mood to update, which is rare for me nowadays. Nobody reviews me anymore! (Think of me saying that in a very whiny voice. Like mosquito-whine.) I stuck a note about this in my user profile, but I guess no one reads my user profile anymore. Sigh. Well, anyway, this is what my note said:

**_WARNING!_**_ Danger, danger, Will Robinson! Okay, had to get that out of my system. This note is to let all readers know that **due to a lack of feedback, I may discontinue updating "Nonsense".** I'd really love to continue, but I'm not feeling the same urge to update I felt before, and it doesn't seem to be generating the same interest. That's why updates have been slower lately. If I don't get the feedback I'd like (yes, I'm being bratty) then the updates will be fewer and far between and will probably stop altogether. So please think about whether or not you want "Nonsense" discontinued. If you want to continue reading new chapters, let me know and review, review, review! (Email would not go unappreciated either...hint, hint.) If I don't get any response to this, I will devote my efforts to something more rewarding (novels, anyone?). Remember: it only takes thirty seconds to review, a minute tops. It can take me up to forty-five minutes (most days) to get a chapter just right (and not because I'm a slow typist.) See how it doesn't really balance out? =)_

Yep, that's me. I'm a whiner.

To anyone who's remotely interested: my AIM screen name is now mistymidnight45. So if you wanna talk to me, or just add someone else to your buddy list so you can beat all your friends in the who-has-the-longest-buddy-list contest, that's the way.

I haven't been writing Little Dawn fics lately (or anything, as a matter of fact.) For those of you who are only reading this to pass the time between Dawn fics, sorry. I'll try to get working on some new ones. I'm running out of ideas. Requests? Please?

On with the chapter!

**Chapter Sixteen**

The woods were cool and Tara felt herself being calmed right away. Just breathing the air felt good. _Because,_ Tara realized, _the smell of cigarettes isn't hanging around. _She closed her eyes for a second and just breathed in the freshness of everything. Then a bug buzzing in her ear brought her back to reality.

_My mother is dying._

This couldn't be right. Moms were supposed to grow old so that someday when you had kids they could spoil them rotten. They were supposed to cry at your wedding and call you after every doctor's appointment and you were supposed to take them out for lunch on Mother's Day.

_I'll never reminisce about old times,_ Tara thought. _We won't look back at my yearbooks and laugh about this time and that person. She won't see me graduate college—she might never even see me graduate high school!_ Tara frowned at herself. _Don't think like that. She can get better. She'll get therapy. Dad will quit smoking._

Tara swatted the bug and continued on her way. She walked deeper into the woods and then stopped.

The spot where she was standing was nothing extraordinary. There was no view, no interesting trees, no flowers, no lake or pond or stream. But Tara cherished this spot. Whenever she felt overwhelmed, she came to this place.

Tara sat down by the grave she had dug so many years before and asked, "How are you?"

She knew it was stupid, really. Dead birds don't talk to you, and even if they did, they would not be doing well at all. How could anything buried underground be doing well? Besides seeds, of course.

But it was all right. Tara didn't expect an answer anyway. It was just soothing to talk to the bird. It helped. Sure, the bird didn't answer, but it never said anything hurtful either. It never told Tara the truth she so desperately didn't want to hear.

So she focused on the gravestone, which was half-buried by leaves and woodsy things. Tara cleaned the gravesite every Memorial Day, but October was a long time past Memorial Day, and the grave could use another neatening up. Tara leaned forward and brushed some of the dried and caked-on mud from the engraved rock that served as a tombstone and continued her conversation with the bird.

"My Mom has lung cancer. She's dying." Tara paused. "Daddy's killing her. Sort of how Donny killed you." She stopped and tears stung her eyes. "My family is full of murderers!" She flung the handful of leaves she collected into the woods. She knew calling her family murderers was melodramatic, but it was how she felt. She couldn't help it.

"I wish—" Tara began, but didn't finish. _If wishes were horses…_ wasn't there a saying like that or something?

There was no point in finishing. Wishes wouldn't change anything.

==================================================================

It was very quiet at dinner. A sense of sorrow had settled over the family. It was like Mom was already dead.

As Tara finished her lasagna, her father sat back in his chair and said, "Tara, be a good girl and get me the Marlboros from the counter."

Tara's breath stopped. She couldn't believe it. She felt light-headed with rage and she felt the need to do something drastic. So she did.

"You're going to smoke?!" she demanded, standing up and banging her hands on the table. "You're killing Mom! For all I know, you could be killing all of us! That's rat poison! I bet you didn't know you smoked rat poison, Daddy, but you do. Rat poison and nicotine and tobacco. Tar! You're killing us with road pavement!"

"Tara," Mommy began.

Tara turned to face her mother. "He's killing you, Mom! He swore to honor you, til death do you part." She turned to her father. "Guess you'll be parting soon than planned, huh?"

"Tara MaClay," Daddy growled dangerously. "You shut up right now."

"No!" Tara shouted. "I won't! You're killing—" Tears spilled over and Tara choked on her words. "You're killing my mother. My mother."

There was silence at the table. "You worthless girl," Daddy snarled. "Do you think you can tell me what to do? You think you can control life and death? I'll smoke if I want to, and you won't control me. You are my daughter, Tara, and you will do as I tell you!"

Tara's sad sobs turned to sobs of utter depression.

"You are not necessary to this family! You can't do anything right. I could have put you up for adoption the second you were born. But I didn't. You owe this life to me!"

Tara put her elbows on the table and leaned on her hands, shaking with sobs.

"Donny," Dad said, "get my cigarettes."

Donny obediently got up from the table and went to retrieve the cigarettes. Tara put her head up. _So Dad wants to smoke, _ she thought. _Well, let's show him what real smoking's all about._

"Ignis."

Donny jerked his hand away as the cigarette pack burst into flames.

=================================================================

Okay, so it was kind of an abrupt ending, but I'm getting tired. To Paula—I was planning to incorporate some of your ideas in this chapter, 'cause I really like them, but, alas, my mind is a strange creature. Despite my full intentions to do something, it goes and decides otherwise. Darn mind.

mistymidnight


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Nonsense **

**mistymidnight**

**Author's Notes: **I don't really feel like updating, but there have been too many requests for me to keep going. I have an ending planned, and if there's interest I'll continue to the end…maybe even post some spoilers on my site (which has been repaired, if you couldn't view it properly in your browser before). Stay tuned.

I'm taking a break from updating "Haven't Changed A Bit". If you haven't read it yet, go on over and do so. I like it, and, if nothing else, it will tide you over until my next update here.

I'm feeling down in the dumps, so this chapter may lean toward the angst-y. Then again, it might not. Maybe I'm just grouchy 'cause I'm hungry. Maybe I should go eat something…I thought the veggie burger would hold me over 'til dinner, but I guess not.

And sorry to disappoint you, but this chapter isn't as long as it might appear. (It's actually, in terms of plot, one of the shortest so far.) At the end, I address my readers (the ones that have the courtesy—_ahem_—to review, anyway.)

At the end of the chapter, I have some messages for my reviewers, so—read on!

**Chapter Seventeen**

After the spontaneously-combusting cigarettes incident, Daddy left Tara alone. And smoked out on the back porch.

Tara tried her best to get through her days. School, which had once been a welcome escape from home, was now a hindrance keeping her from spending time with her mother.

They were working on new spells. Tara could make a ball of light float above her hand. "It's important that you know these things," Mom said. "Because I won't be here forever."

Tara wondered sadly how she could say those words with a smile on her face.

Tara sat in her seventh-period chemistry class. She liked chemistry; it was so similar to magic in some ways.

The PA system crackled to life and rasped out, "Tara Maclay to the main office, please. Tara Maclay."

Tara stood up and her teacher nodded to her, giving her permission to leave. Tara's classmates barely even looked up. When other students got called to the office, there was almost always a chorus of, "Ooooh, now you've done it!" and "Busted!" It just served as another reminder to Tara that she wasn't important.

She walked down the quiet and empty hallways, her feet occasionally stepping on piece of paper or an abandoned, broken pencil, snapped in half.

She pulled open the office door and was hit with a blast of cool air from the AC. The office was one of the only rooms in the building privileged with air conditioning.

Tara glanced around and saw her father sitting quietly in one of the chairs. Tara knew what was coming. "No," she breathed, as if she could reverse what had happened. "No! She isn't dead! She can't be!" The office secretary looked up sympathetically.

"Be quiet, girl," her father said, grabbing her wrist. With a curt nod to the secretary, he took Tara outside with him.

Tara was sobbing. "Look at me, girl," he father commanded. Tara looked up. "She isn't dead. She's in the hospital."

Tara didn't stop sobbing. "How bad?"

Her father was tugging her towards the car. "Pretty bad, or I wouldn't've pulled you out of school. She wants to see you."

Tara felt a pang of…something…in her heart. As much as she hated her father, at least he was going to let her see her mother.

_One last time._

* * *

Yeah, cliffhanger. Yeah, I'm evil. Get over it. The faster the reviews come in, the faster the new chapter gets written.

Messages to reviewers: (don't read just yours, if you can. Try to read a few, because I answer some questions that you may have and I respond to comments you may have agreed with.)

Strawberries'n'Sugar— Yeah, 95 review really isn't a lack of interest, is it? =) What I mean is I'm not getting the same amount of interest I used to. Less reviews come in per chapter, and many aren't as helpful as they used to be. I appreciate any and all reviews, though. (I don't count flames as reviews, FYI.)

The Sovereign of Selenity— Thanks for the offer, but you don't have to review under several different pseudonyms. I get the message. =) It's good to know you enjoy it so much. Warms my little Grinchy heart. .:tear:.

Jenn— I hate the father, too. But I kinda feel bad for him. Life would be way easier (not to mention less magic-filled) for him if he'd just treat his wife and Tara like human beings.

Little Lab Rabbit— The father _is_ a horrible man. Down with Daddy! Thanks for the reviews—a flood is better than none. =) In fact, a flood is good no matter what. And you're right—for all his cruelty, Tara's father _is_ a complex character.

Me2— Thanks! I liked the bird grave part, too. (It was fun to write a one-way conversation.)

Pixie Child— .:does best Elvis impersonation:. Thank you. Thank you very much.

Kristen— You don't have to apologize, really. It's your review and you can say what you want. That's the beauty of reviewing. As long as it's not flames, I welcome any and all reviews. And yes, Alzheimer's is a scary disease. I watched both my grandfathers die from it. I'm sorry about yours and I hope the medication is working out for them. And I haven't read the DaVinci Code, but I've heard great things about it. I'll have to pick up a copy.

Turtlecrghblue—Thank you for the compliment. I think I'll finish this, but not do a sequel. When I'm done with this, I'll have said everything there is to be said, you know? Thanks for your support.

Freezyboncoolipants— Thank you! And don't worry about Tara's jump from five or so to seventeen. I'll probably do some flashbacks, if I can fit them in.

Donna— Remind me to thank gidgetgirl (again!) for reccing me on her page. I'm glad you're enjoying it so far.

BlackCat200— Thank you for the support! Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Yeah, I remembered when Tara's mom died…I'm just trying to put off writing it. Ah! The suspense! =

La Trom Mi— Lack of feedback is the worst! Yeah, I hated the lack of Tara stories, too, so I decided to write one myself and then…this happened.

Slayer87— Sorry about your problem with a lack of reviews. Hey, people, go read Slayer87's fic! (There. Maybe that will help.)

Faeries Twilight— Yeah, she did go all "UN-Tara" I like to write characters out of character every once in awhile. And I will never tire of your reviews or any reviews, no matter what! =)

Alias-Boss Lady— Thank you for the feedback you've given. And I feel special (you're letting Tara's birth date slide just for my sake…). I should have remembered to check her tombstone, but alas, I had a brain blip. Oh well. We can pretend that Joss was wrong, not me. =D

Pay-day1999— There will be references to Scooby activity, but I'm not gonna get in-depth with it. A lot of the fic is centered on Tara's Mom and Tara herself, so I'm not gonna carry it too far into the canon.

Bunyip-baby— Update I shall!

gidgetgirl—Thanks. I actually liked my characters young (kidfic takes its toll…), but I'm glad you like them older. Not that I _dis_like them older or anything…

Love the idea for the Bethie fic. Advance rec to all my readers: when GG comes out with a Bethie fic, read it!

About our stories running along similar veins…I noticed that, too. I'm glad you're not accusing me of plagiarism…lol. I had the idea for the bird in my head for a while, and I considered not posting it after reading your fic, because they were so similar. Well, the side of my brain that was screaming, "Post it! Post it!" won out. =) And that "Cheape" POV fic was so incredibly cute! Makes me want to cuddle with my kitty-cat right now (even though she'd shred me to bits before I got within a foot of her…)

Paula— Thanks for the awesome ideas. I wanted to work them in so badly. I couldn't exactly work your specific ideas in, but I did pout in details derived from them, like Tara going to the woods to visit the bird. =)

Watcher's Pet— Thank you! Sorry that one of my characters reminds your dad until your parents divorced…but I'm glad you like the story.

Solar Jebus— Thanks! You wanna live in the house, huh? (I do, too…) The house it's based on is up for sale, you know…=P (It really is.)

Dawn-Roberts—Thank you! (Sorry I can't think of more to write. I hope people don't accuse me of playing favorites to reviewers…) I appreciate all the feedback I get from you. (PS—"The Laundry" get me laughing every time I read it, which is relatively often.)

Sarah S. — You and Donna (see above) are gonna both have to remid me to thank gidgetgirl for the awesome "fic pimping". =)

Lia Star— Thank you. (Off subject, here, but I love "Curiosity". It reminds me a little bit of a fic I never posted at I'm not quite sure why it reminds me of it…the plots are nothing alike…I guess it's just my crazy brain.)

Just a girl—Thank you. Glad you like!

MBB— =) Thanks!

That's all. Do you realize the "Reviewers" section of this chapter took up more room than the actual story? Yeah, you probably did notice, because you're feeling gypped. I guess I'll update again, sooner than I did this time…

Thanks to all!

mistymidnight


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Nonsense **

**mistymidnight**

**Author's Notes: **If I fed you an elaborate story about why I didn't update for two months, would you believe me?

…

…

…

Didn't think so.

I'm planning on about two more chapters; maybe make it an even twenty.

**Chapter 18**

The hospital smelled like ammonia and clean clothes. The smell made Tara sick. Everything was too clean. Why did the hospital have to be so impeccably clean? It would be so much easier to blame whatever happened on the hospital if it was filthy and in violation of a zillion health codes.

It was too cold in the hospital, too. The air conditioning was pumped as high as it could go and Tara shivered as she walked down the hallway, even though she was wearing a fuzzy lilac sweater. She pulled the sleeves down over her hands and wrapped her arms around herself. It was too cold. She hoped her mother had a lot of blankets.

She reached the door and knocked, before slowly opening the door. "Mom?"

"Hi, sweetie," her mother rasped, and Tara was startled at the person lying on the bed before her. This wasn't her mother. This was an imposter, a play-actor with breathing tubes in her nose and machines hooked up to her. This couldn't be her mother. It couldn't.

"Mom," Tara said, rushing over to grasp her mother's hand. "I love you, Mom."

"I love you, too, Tara-pooh-honey-bear."

Tara felt tears stinging at her eyes, but held them back. She had to be strong for her mother.

"Tara," her mother said. "Take care of Donny and Daddy."

"Mom," Tara said, panicked. "I won't have to, Mom. You'll get better. We'll take care of them together."

"Sweetie." Her mother smiled sadly. "I'm not going to get better. You know that."

Tara felt a tear push out of the corner of her eye. It tickled as it crawled down her cheek.

"Mom," she said, "I'll make it stop. I'll find a spell—"

"Tara," her mother said. "You can't do that. You can't give and take lives. It's not your job."

"I don't care!" Tara burst out, even though she knew her mother was right.

"Tara," her mother said, squeezing her hand, "you need to honor my memory. Don't undercut everything I've taught you. Don't use your power for selfish reasons. It's my time."

"You can't leave me!" Tara cried. "Don't leave me."

"I have to, Tara," her mother whispered. "I'll miss you. But I want you to do five things for me."

"What?"

"I want you to live your life to the fullest. And sweetheart, I want you to go to Disneyland and swim in a lake in the mountains and laugh until your tummy hurts and eat Jell-O before it gets jiggly."

Tara smiled through her tears. "I will. I promise."

* * *

Early the next morning, Brooke Maclay died.

Tara made Jell-O.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Nonsense **

**mistymidnight**

**Author's Notes: **Wow, I didn't update for four months! I didn't realize it had been that long. Oh, well, forgive me?

Just as a point of interest (ha!), I thought I'd tell you that Jell-O really does taste better in liquid form. But now I don't eat Jell-O, because I am opposed to it in oh so many ways...but I still kinda miss drinking it. (Yes, drinking it.)

**Chapter 19**

"What's that?"

Tara looked up from the envelope she was holding. "A letter."

Donny rolled his eyes. "I know _that_," he replied. "Who's it from?"

"UC Sunnydale."

"Another college?"

"Yes."

"Might as well throw it away."

Tara looked up. "Why?"

Donny gave her a look. "Dad will never let you go."

"I can get a scholarship."

Donny walked past her to the kitchen. "That's not the point, Tara. You know you're...different...than most people. And besides, you have to stay here. Someone has to work around the house. I mean, we lost Mom. Dad won't want to let you go, too."

"Well," Tara said quietly, "that's selfish."

"Doesn't matter," Donny remarked. "Dad will make you do like he tells you to. That's the way it works."

Tara didn't answer.

Her mind was made up. She was going to apply.

Ever since her mother had died, she'd been looking at things a little differently. Sure, Dad didn't want her to go to college, and Donny might say he only wanted the best for her, but Tara had her doubts about that. After all, if Dad had wanted the best for his family, he would have stopped smoking. And he would have let Tara and her mother go on vacation together without having to hide it. And...the list went on.

Tara didn't want to be stuck here for the rest of her life, cooking and cleaning and taking care of Dad and Donny. Let Beth take care of that. Tara was going to go to college.

Sunnydale, California, 1999

Tara hung the last string of lights over the door in her dorm room. She was living alone (by chance, not by choice), and she was going to make these four years the best of her life. She was going to finish college, she was going to buy her own place, and she was going to live happily ever after. Mom would be proud.

That had been the hardest part of going away-leaving Mom. In high school, Tara would visit her mother's grave at least once a week, just to tell her what was going on in Tara's life. When she had gotten accepted to UC Sunnydale, Tara had had a long talk with her mother. Dad had been furious, and Donny and Beth were peeved as well, but Tara would not back down. She wanted this more than anything.

Briefly, she wondered what everyone at home was doing. Was Beth still dating the same guy? Was Donny dating anyone? What was Dad doing? She pushed those thoughts into the back of her mind. Today, it wasn't about Dad or Donny or Beth.

Today was all about Tara.

It was time to start living.

* * *

Not my best by far, but it's an update.

mistymidnight


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Nonsense**

**mistymidnight**

**Author's Notes: **Wow, how long has it been since I updated? Holy cow, it's been three…almost four…months. Sorry.

Well, here it is…the long awaited final chapter of my mot popular story, Nonsense. Yep. I'm kinda sad to be ending it, not only because it was fun to write, but also because it's my biggest review-taker-inner, and I'm a sucker for reviews. Help me out here? REVIEW! (And then go review my other stuff, if you're so inclined…I just posted a new chapter of 'Becoming What?', and NO ONE reviewed! And when I posted the new chapter of 'Willow Rosenberg, Child Psychologist'? TWO reviews! (Thanks to the two people who did review, by the way.)

Anyhoo, there's my ramble. On with the chapter!

Okay, one more little note before I start. Notice that the date of the letter is right after the time Willow and Tara broke up in season six. Okay, now on with the chapter. For real this time.

* * *

SUNNYDALE, CALIFORNIA 

June 23, 2002

She looked down at the flowers in her hand. While lilies. They stood out against her dark dress, looking too bright and out of place. _It seems appropriate,_ she thought. _Looking back, Tara always seemed out of place, too._

It struck her this time how final the past tense sounded. She had been referring to Tara in the past tense ever since Tara had left for college, so continuing the habit shouldn't have attracted her attention at all.

But Beth wasn't one for a lack of attention. Beth noticed the little things. And it was the little things that were making her feel so…guilty? Regretful? _We were just kids,_ she thought. _I never really meant all those things I did to her_.

_But you did,_ a voice in her head said. No, not her head, her heart. _You meant it all, and if she were still alive, you wouldn't think twice about doing it all over again. _

_If it wasn't for that stupid letter, _Beth thought, _I wouldn't care at all._

But the letter could not be unsent, unopened, and unread. And Beth was going to have to deal with it.

She took a deep breath and walked through the cemetery gates, recalling the last link she had with her cousin.

_November 23, 2001_

_Dear Beth,_

_I hope you're well. I haven't spoken to you since you came to see me on my birthday last year, and there's a few things I wanted to say. In fact, I've been doing a lot of 'saying' lately. You know, standing up for myself? It's a little bit strange and a little bit scary, but I'm more or less on my own now, and it's necessary._

_I won't lie to you, Beth: I'm angry. I'm angry with you and Donny and Dad, and not just for coming to my new home and my new life to tell me some tall tales about demons. I know more about demons—literal and figurative—than you ever will, and I have a few things to say to you in regards to that visit._

_First of all, you had no right to barge into my life and call me an 'ungrateful bitch'. I believe those were your words. I can't remember exactly; I tried my hardest not to dwell on it. But it kept coming back, and can you blame me for wanting to get it off my chest now? _

_You had no right to ever speak to me, see me, or have any kind of contact with me after I left home. Did you know, Beth, it was not so much about going to college as it was about leaving home? You're not stupid by any stretch of the imagination, Beth, and I'm sure some part of you realized that, for me, home was not an existence I could bear. And again, I won't lie: you were part of that. I'm sure some part of you realizes that, too. _

_My life seems to have fallen down around me lately, and I'm trying to pick up the pieces. It's hard being brave, Beth, even after the lifetime of practice I now realize I've had. But it's time for me to be strong: I never want to see you again. Not you, not Donny, not Dad. There, I said it. I have my own life now; I'm finally Tara. Not your cousin or Donny's sister or Dad's daughter. I'm Tara, and that's all I'll ever need to be. So I don't think I'll be needing any more unexpected visits from you, or, rather, any visits at all, expected or not._

_Please, Beth, don't misunderstand me. I love you all. You're my blood kin. But I will never like you. I will never enjoy your company. I will never belong with any of you._

_Regardless, I wish you the best of luck in all your endeavors, and I hope your life is filled with joy._

_Sincerely,_

Tara 

Beth felttears sting her eyes. When Tara's family, her father and her brother, had heard the news that she'd died, they had barely paused from what they were doing. When they had learned it was a murder, they were slightly more interested. _Probably wondering about the make of the gun,_ Beth thought bitterly.

She glanced at the diamond ring sparkling on her finger. She was due to be married in June of next year.

_I'll get everything Tara never had: a family, a long, happy life._

Would it really be happy, though? _This is about me,_ Beth realized, clutching the lilies tighter. _This isn't about Tara, it's about me. About my fears…never having a happy life. Never having a good family._

_Tara had everything. Everything that I want. She didn't die unfulfilled. Prematurely, yes. But she loved and she lived. God, I'm so selfish. _

She didn't have time to dwell on that, because she had reached the tombstone. It was right there in from of her, and it made everything real. Tara was dead.

Beth slowly laid the lilies on the ground, noting the other flowers placed lovingly around the tombstone. _Her friends,_ she thought. _No, not her friends—her family. Her real family. _

She knelt by the edge of the grave and read the tombstone:

TARA MACLAY

OCTOBER 16, 1980 – MAY 7, 2002

As she read the tombstone, memories jumped to Beth's mind. Memories of another grave, and a bird. _I think I understand now, a little bit_, she thought.

When she got home, there was another grave Beth had to visit.

She got up and brushed the dirt away and left, leaving Tara alone again.

She didn't hear the breeze whisper about Disneyland and mountain lakes and laughter and Jell-O.

To her, it was just nonsense.

* * *

mistymidnight 


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